


This Is Not Happening

by BunIsBun



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, some just in mention but still sorta in it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunIsBun/pseuds/BunIsBun
Summary: The air was thick with a fog that crept slowly over the tall grass, weaving in between the thick trees. The mist had changed once again, but hardly for the better.





	

The air was thick with a fog that crept slowly over the tall grass, weaving in between the thick trees. The mist had changed once again, but hardly for the better.

 

Dwight didn't recognize the new area, but he _did_  recognize repeated objects. The same old generators, oddly placed closets, pallets, and dusty, falling apart buildings. It almost reminded him of the estate; the run-down, abandoned—apart from the Trapper himself—mismatched conglomeration of factory buildings and woodland.

Upon arriving into the match, he, at first, had thought it was the sheltered woods of the Trapper's domain. Except, the layout didn't match up. The trees were different. A thick mesh of tall pines and leafy deciduous trees. The orange and yellow leaves falling from them were the only thing other than himself to disturb the fog. The buildings and strewn debris were few and far between, seeming out of place in a forest that otherwise appeared undisturbed.

 

Dwight picked his way carefully through the grass and brush towards the flickering floodlights ahead. Hopefully those lights signaling a generator hadn't been another thing that had changed. He paused often to hide behind trees, peeking out to wait and listen, watching for any movement, whether to spot to girls or the killer.

  
He wasn't sure which one it was this time, there had been no signal or hint to tip him off to which it was. No haunting ring of bells to tell him it was the Wraith, no spine-chilling screeches from the Nurse, nor any distant revving of the Hillbilly's chainsaw. His only other guess was the Trapper, but he had yet to see any of the rusty bear traps hidden about. He had yet to see any hooks.

 

Uncertainty like this wasn't something Dwight handled well.

 

Surviving was rough as it was already with their rag-tag team being down a member. Jake had gone missing from the campfire and none of the girls or Dwight had seen him since. He hoped he just was in another area; he hoped that the entity had sent him to a different campfire, for whatever reasoning it had.

 

It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, but never had it lasted this long. Sometimes when escaping matches, they returned to a different fire. Sometimes, to different people. They'd learned quickly that the entity had rules, and one of those rules was a limit on how many of them could enter into the same round of horror. On this knowledge, one stayed behind, as the other four headed into the fog.

 

Jake often was the one staying to put together offerings from the flowers they picked, or to explore the bloodweb further. It wasn't that he didn't want to join them in matches, though Dwight wouldn't blame him if that was the case. He wouldn't blame him if maybe it was that he liked the solitude in the wait for the rest of them to return. Maybe he liked the silence. It, at least, was what he always insisted upon when asked if he'd be okay by himself, and the girls believed it with how little he ever responded when they _were_  around.

But Dwight knew better. He knew in the way Jake listened. The way he settled when Claudette giddily rambled on about her blog or facts about plants, or even when Meg and Nea teased him. He'd scowl and glare, but Dwight never missed the tension leaving their fluffy-haired friend's shoulders.

They teased him too, catching him far more than a few times in how attentively he watched Jake. But Dwight watched the girls with the same care. It was a skill he'd picked up ever since middle-school for the dangers of the halls, and at this point it was instinct to apply it everything, even his newfound friendships. Watch, listen, learn.

 

So though he insisted upon it, Dwight knew, Jake didn't like being alone. Instead, that willingness to stay behind was just that he was always digging further; clues, hints, the shredded scraps of information they were allowed in furthering their hope at the possibility of escape. Jake was the most willing of them all to face the suffocating darkness that was the bloodweb. The rest of them jumped at any chance to avoid it, despite if they would have to sooner or later to gain more supplies.

 

Dwight really hoped that Jake was at a different bonfire, and not... something permanent. He wouldn't put it past the entity to have moved the fog in and pulled him into a match while the rest of them were gone. Maybe it was upset at his adamant search for information? Again, not knowing had Dwight worrying more than he probably should have. Trying to make up logical excuses and explanations for things hardly did him any good.

When they could get Jake to say more than one blunt sentence at a time, he'd tease back sometimes. Joke with that sorely underused, crooked smile he had, that 'they needed him to play hero and save their sorry-asses from the hooks'.

They always laughed with him, but it had quickly become apparent of how much Jake really did help keep everyone safe with the skills he possessed. There was a heavy truth in his jokes. Without him to reduce the amount of hooks and traps, they all had started to falter. They couldn't guarantee an escape from the killer's shoulder once caught anymore, knowing there was most likely a hook hardly thirty feet away in any direction. Perhaps his skills were why he'd gone missing. Maybe the entity found he was making things 'unfair'. The fear of the hooks was stronger than ever without Jake around.

 

Dwight's gaze flicked back up to the floodlights, following the pole supporting it down to spy the glint of the generator just through the brush. He rubbed at his arms, looking around as he crept with the fog towards it. He almost had himself jumping at the crunch of leaves underneath his own shoes.

He took a moment to inspect the area around the cold generator upon reaching it, hoping to plan a good escape route in case the killer came his way. The most that there was for cover nearby was the trees and thick brush.

Further off was a dusty old building, but it was too far away to be a viable option for immediate cover. The brush hardly was either; even if the undergrowth was plenty to hide in, he knew ducking into it would cause a racket. The most he could hope for is to hide around the trees and—if the killer didn't leave so he could go back to repairing—slip by and head towards the building.

 

At least it was some semblance of a plan. _Better than nothing_ , he supposed. Dwight returned back to the generator tucked against the broken boxes strewn about between the trees. He glanced at the horizon of rolling fog one more time to double-check before he set to work fixing the battered machine.

 

What was realistically only a few minutes, felt like forever, as Dwight was slow in repairing. It wasn't that he struggled to do it, no, it was that his nerves were on end. He was constantly pausing to check his surroundings; being alone was awful when he had yet to see the girls.

 

By the time he finally had half of the pistons working again, movement caught his eye when he looked up yet again. Dwight was glad he had kept checking. In the distance through the trees, he could see someone making their way up the hill. It took him a moment of staring to try and discern any detail from the sight.

Dwight squinted, almost tempted to move closer so he could see better, but he remained planted to his spot. The slow pace of the silhouette at first had him thinking it was one of the girls, but the figure didn't match. As they stopped to stand straight, Dwight realized they had some form of tattered cloak on. It couldn't be the Wraith though, again, the figure didn't match up. They weren't tall or thin enough.

 

A sinking feeling settled its way deep into his gut as Dwight spied the blade held tightly in their hand.

 

  
_It was a new killer_.

 

  
Just how many were there going to be? It had already been distressing enough when they'd found the nurse and her domain.

Dwight took his hands away from the generator to avoid the risk of sparking it. He couldn't focus on it when his attention was so firmly glued to the strange killer in the distance. He continued to watch as they wandered about at what could almost be considered a leisurely walk, taking the time to observe their surroundings. Perhaps this new area was just as new to them as it was to him?

 

Dwight ducked behind a tree when the killer turned sharply, glaring at something that had caught their attention. Something down the hill in the swath of trees. It wasn't him, he knew that much as he peered out from the tree to watch them take off in a run down the hill opposite of his direction to investigate.

Dwight turned back to the generator once they were out of sight, but froze as his hands reached for the chugging metal when he heard a scream. Then some sort of fear-fueled laughter.

 

_Meg._

 

He knew that voice and laugh from anywhere. She didn't laugh if she was hit, he knew that. It, at the very least, was some form of reassurance. She would be fine; she knew how to shake any killer off her tracks better than anyone. Trying return to multitasking, Dwight continued fixing the generator while keeping an ear out for any sign of trouble.

The wait in between listening and working was a stiff tension that had his shoulders aching within minutes. There was no more screams, no more laughter. No signs of life beyond the stare of the crows boring into his shoulders. It felt like ages as silence laid thick in the air besides the clicking of his repairs and chugging of the generator. In comparison, the noise rang harsh in his ears, seeming much louder than he knew it really was. Dwight found himself counting as each piston on the generator struggled into gear.

  
Two.

 

  
_Click, click._

 

  
Two, and one slowly easing upwards.

 

  
_Click... click... click._

 

  
Three...

 

  
_Click—_

  
Dwight felt a harsh chill run up his spine; he knew better than to chalk it up to the stare of the crows. He had to ball his hands tightly and clench his jaw to stop himself from scrambling away from the generator in a panic, hearing the brush rattle not too far from where he was crouched.

_'Stay calm, just stay calm. Just sneak away and hide, you can do this.'_ His thoughts, a weak attempt to assure himself, as he eased away from the loud generator and into the trees. Another rustle in the grass hardly twenty feet away, and Dwight froze up. Holding his breath.

 

Holding.

 

  
Holding...

 

A flicker of movement to his right caught his eye—feathers? No, a cloak. Dwight wasn't actually sure. Something in his chest tightened when he realized the racket from the brush wasn't even from the killer that was slowly headed for the nearly fixed generator. No, those steps were silent, non-existent, if not just covered by the rumble of the generator. The noise was the flutter of wings from the crows, not fleeing that unnerving presence, but following it. Like children following a mother.

 

Dwight swallowed nervously, inching his way through the fog towards the building. He didn't feel safe lingering around to wait for the killer to leave. He was halfway there. He could do this, he could slip away without even being seen.

Something in his gut told him the crows were more of his worry at this point. He knew they were watching. Dwight picked his way through the trees slowly and as silently as he could, convinced they'd squawk if he made too much noise or moved too fast. It was painful to creep low through the fog with his shoulders still stiff from the tension earlier.

 

  
Once he was within fifteen feet of the building, Dwight straightened up and quickly made his way into the dusty wooden shack. He swallowed his panic dryly to glance around for somewhere to hide. He may not have fully been seen, but he knew the killer was tracking him. The activity of the generator would have them searching the area for him, and Dwight still wasn't sure how to counter how they worked just yet. The distant glimpse of them from the hill was all he had really seen of them so far.

 

Red wood tucked against the wall caught his attention. _A closet._

 

It... wasn't the best option, that was for sure, but his choices were very limited. Dwight chewed on his lip, adjusting his glasses, before quietly slipping into the large cabinet. He waited, listening, trying to focus on breathing slowly and quietly, and on keeping still. So much as a shuffle of his feet and he'd be done for.

 

Even with the thick silence in the air, Dwight almost didn't catch the soft scrape of the killer's boots on the old wood flooring. Whereas he could usually hear the loud thump of the Trapper's boots, or the uneven gait of the Hillbilly, he could hardly hear this one. Even with the Wraith, he could usually hear his growls, or the wheezing of the Nurse. It hadn't just been the noise of the generator covering up footsteps, they really _did_ move silently. Like they were a part of the entity's twisted woods.

 

Dwight nervously peeked out the closet blinds, taking a silent, deep breath and holding it. He couldn't pry his eyes away from watching the strange new killer wander into the shack. If he was careful, he could finally get a better look at them now.

 

A dark, concealing hood shrouded their face in shadow. Long sleeves, dirty, worn pants, thick gloves clutching a long, sharp blade. The cloak he'd noticed earlier was that of dark feathers, fluttering lightly with each movement. Dwight watched the feathers settle as the killer slowed to a stop, carefully eyeing the room. They almost seemed frustrated at losing the trail, but Dwight didn't hear a sound of irritation or see an angry swipe at the air like the other killers did.

Instead, they silently stood there, listening, staring out the window into the fog. They reached up to mess with their hood, holding their head as if in pain with a headache. Dwight watched them seem to hold an inner monologue, or even an argument with something he couldn't hear. The entity, perhaps? He assumed it had to communicate to the killers in some way; they worked for it, after all.

He kept his eyes locked on them as they moved over to the window to lean out and peek around outside of the building. He'd never seen the other killers take the time to do that. They'd only ever stepped through or went around. This new one certainly was strange. Dwight swallowed as quietly as he could, trying to keep his nerves down.

 

_'They don't know. They haven't even looked this way. Just stay quiet and you'll be fine.'_  Dwight once again feebly tried to reassure himself.

 

The killer turned back around, sliding down the part of the wall below the window. They set down the long blade—another thing he'd never seen any other killer do before—leaning against the wall with a shaky sigh. Dwight watched with wide eyes as the orange light from the entity formed in the window, its horrible, spindly claws materializing out of the air to curl over top of the resting killer. He almost thought he could hear it whisper to them.

They waved at the claws with an irritated, pained huff, curling up more when it crackled louder. It scraped its grotesque legs along their arms and shoulders, digging into the fabric of their sleeves. Dwight was more than sure they were holding a silent conversation. Part of him wished he could hear it.

They waved the entity away again, and this time it slowly retreated, but it seemed like it had caused them enough pain to give in to it's demands. Dwight stared as the killer reached up to push their hood off and run a gloved hand through their dark, messy hair. His eyes were trained on their face, staring as the mask was tugged down to rub blood away from their lip.

 

It took everything Dwight had to not cry out in shock.

 

 

_In absolute horror._

 

 

Jake.

 

 

It... it was _Jake_.

 

It was hard to recognize him through all the layers. That blood-stained cloak of dark feathers, the thick clothes, the hood, the mask. His skin was darkened with dirt and cracked in places with the faint orange glow from the entity's influence. But with the concealing hood and mask lowered, there was no mistake. It was definitely him.

 

This was where he'd been all this time? This is what happened to him?

 

Dwight didn't know how much it took till the entity could twist someone into a killer. They hadn't confirmed if it was the loss of their soul or the loss of their hope, or... both. Had Jake lost his hope..? Had it taken every sliver of his soul?

Dwight chewed on his lip harshly. This couldn't be happening. Jake always had so much hope! He always was the one pushing to find a way out, digging for clues, even if... sometimes it had only been for the rest of the group, and not himself.

 

He bit back tears as he watched Jake pull the mask and hood back on, standing to trudge out of the shack with a hesitation in his step. It was more than obvious he was in pain, though besides the hesitation, he couldn't see any obvious wounds. What had it done to him? He couldn't imagine what sort of torture it put him through to turn him into... _this_.

Jake always seemed so strong willed, the fact that will had been broken to do this to him was terrifying; a harsh reminder of just how powerful the entity was.

 

Dwight waited till he was sure he'd left to continue looking, and then a little longer just to be extra sure. The breath he'd been holding came out shaky as he slipped out of the closet. He ran his hands through his hair, nervously pulling at it. _What should he do?_

Of course, he had to get the generators up to escape the match, but... he couldn't just _leave_  Jake here. Chances were, he probably didn't have the choice. How would he even get through to him? Would he even be able to hear him? The entity's influence could very well be too strong for that.

Maybe it was reckless and desperate of him, but he had to try. Jake seemed hesitant still, enough for the entity to physically appear to usher him onwards. Dwight still might have a chance. At the very least, he had to try. He couldn't just run away in fear and leave Jake to this fate.

 

Dwight snuck out of the shack and back out into the surrounding woods, back towards the generator he had been working on. He could at least finish it while he tried to figure out what to do. Maybe he could lure Jake over with it? He'd need to make sure he had a decent place to hide so he would have the upper hand. A closet wouldn't work. He'd be helpless if he was caught. Unless... he tried hitting the door in his face on the off chance he checked it?

It was more of that he needed to bait him, though. Dwight knelt down next to the worn generator, most of the pistons still chugging away. As he resumed his work on it, he tried to fall back into the balance between not sparking it and keeping and eye out for... well, Jake.

Dwight's hope was to pop the generator to draw his attention. He either needed to sneak up on him or draw him into a chase till he could find something to fight back with. More importantly, he needed to get that blade out from his hands if he were to have a chance at overpowering him.

 

The last repairs were methodical. Untangle this, connect that wire with that one, screw that back on. _Click, click, click._  He tried to be quick, hoping to finish it before Jake could get too far away, or before the girls could draw his attention with one of their own. Too focused on fixing to look around.

He was only vaguely aware of the soft rustle of the grass behind him. He didn't want to acknowledge it, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to. He could finish it in time. _Needed to finish it._  If this whole plan backfired, he could at least make sure the girls had one less generator to fix.

 

As the generator harshly rumbled to life, the blinding floodlights boring down on his back, Dwight dared to whip around as he stood. The dirt crunched roughly under his shoes.

 

He hadn't really needed to draw Jake's attention.

 

The light reflecting off that stained blade was more than enough to drive his body into action. Inches behind his back, metal collided with metal, a hit that was meant for him. Dwight's heartbeat lagged behind him as he tore off through the trees. He didn't need to look to know Jake was hot on his heels.

The spike of adrenaline running through him almost had him running in a blind panic. His shoes skidded on the dirt and wet grass, hand snapping out to a tree to regain balance as he tried to swallow the instinctive fear. His blood rushed violently in his ears. The brush stung, whipping at him as he forced his way through.

 

There was a palette up ahead amongst more strewn about debris and boxes. He could make it! In the heat of the chase, the footsteps that had previously been silent were now almost loud. It would be close, but he could make it.

 

Dwight nearly slipped, skidding a little on the grass as he slammed the palette down between the piled debris that blocked any other path. The glint of that long knife caught a breath in his chest. He scrambled back to avoid it as it dug into the obstructing wood.

Dwight grit his teeth at the growling grumble of frustration that came from the other as he glared at him. It was harsh, grating, but the first noise he'd heard from him yet and something about it made Dwight realize this was his chance.

 

The blade was stuck.

 

He couldn't waste any more time. Dwight sucked in a deep breath and darted forwards, one hand supporting himself as he leapt over the palette and drove his feet directly into Jake's gut. He didn't want to hurt him, but he knew he needed to.

What would have been a cry of pain came as a breathless hiss as Jake stumbled from the blow. His nerves wanted him to freeze up or run away, but if he did, Dwight knew he'd never get another opportunity like this. He planted his hands firmly on Jake's shoulders and shoved to stop him from regaining his balance. With the blade lodged into the wood, it slipped from his hands.

 

The two tumbled into a tangled heap in the grass, another growl from Jake at the impact. Either it wasn't enough to truly stun him, or Jake was fast to recover, as gloved hands reached for him. Dwight flinched, jerking away in expecting a punch, but instead found a painful grip to his arms. He pressed his own back to fight it.

 

He wasn't sure how many times they rolled, struggling to win control over the struggle. Dwight's attention was split between trying to keep Jake from hurting him, and rolling them as far away from his weapon as he could.

 

"Jake!"

 

Dwight yelled as he was pressed back into the grass once again to grapple against Jake's attempts to either punch or claw him, and trying to stop him from getting up to run for that blade.

  
"Jake!!!" Dwight yelled again, his breathing harsh as he struggled against Jake's grip. He shoved, hand slipping against his hair, pushing that dark hood off, the mask loosening with it. It fell around his neck, and Dwight could clearly see the scowl he'd expected to be accompanying that pinched glare.

Dwight reached up, shaking, but determined hands gripping Jake's shirt. He pushed again, rolling them over to fight to pin him into the grass. That cloak was getting in Jake's way, tangling him up the more he wrestled against Dwight pressing him down, "Jake, listen to me!"

 

He wasn't sure if he was getting through to him or not, but he could have sworn that Jake hesitated. Either in actually hearing him, or in pausing to untangle himself from his cloak. Dwight breathed in sharply as hands balled into his collar.

He flinched, coughing when his back hit the ground once more, Jake back to pinning him down. Dwight squirmed, kicking, but couldn't stop the hands curling around his throat in time. His own snapped up to the other's wrists.

 

"J— stop!!!" Dwight choked, feeling the pressure slowly crush down onto him. Wide, panicking eyes met a furious snarl. He could very well die by his friend's hands if he couldn't pull this off, if he couldn't... "Stop! Th-this isn't you! C-c'mon! You're better than this..!"

 

There came another hesitation at his wheezy words, the snarl loosening just enough for Dwight to latch onto it. There was something in those rich brown eyes he knew so well. Something he recognized, something... familiar.

 

_That dark, brooding glare._

 

Dwight took the opportunity while it was still open, curling his fingers tightly around Jake's wrists and shoved, prying him from his throat. He must have been pressing all his weight onto Dwight's throat, as once his hands were forced away, he lost his balance. Dwight held on, quite literally, for dear life. He wasn't about to let Jake recover from the slip.

 

"Jake..!"

Dwight kept Jake pinned as much as he could with being the one on the ground. It was closer to holding him away from himself to stop another attack, but he didn't let go of his arms.

"Jake, please..."

 

He hoped repeating his name over and over would help. If not just something familiar to draw his attention, but to reach to him. To remind him he wasn't forgotten. That someone knew him.

 

"I don't know what happened, b-but you don't... have to do this. You don't have to listen to it, t-to the entity." Dwight slowly lowered from a desperate yell to a soft, hoarse mumble. His chest heaved for air as he forced himself to keep going. He wasn't going to let Jake break away from his stare, following those brown eyes each time they tried to flicker away from him, squeezing his wrists to regain his attention.

Jake was stiff, as paled as he could be with the dirt covering his skin, the hints of blood. The orange glow was faint; Dwight swore it was fading. It was like Jake had frozen up. Which was good, Jake wasn't one who could hold such intense eye contact for long, and Dwight knew it. Seeing such familiar behavior spurred him on, "We're in this together, Jake, you know that. I know you wanted to get me and the girls free, but..."

 

Dwight paused, kneading his fingers into the fabric of Jake's sleeves, retaining his tight grip should he attempt to move again. He searched for any sign of returning aggression. But his eyes, _his eyes_...

 

His eyes spoke the opposite. A wide, almost shocked stare. He looked _just_ like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car. His lip twitched ever so slightly each time Dwight continued on, "But it doesn't have to _just_  be for us. You don't have to stay behind."

 

"We're your friends, Jake." Dwight swallowed a knot in his throat in worry that maybe he was just rambling on to deaf ears. His lips felt as dry as his throat. Chapped, splitting, stinging. It hardly burned as much as his throat, but he couldn't stop now. "I-... _I'm_  your friend. Please... I'm here for you, Jake. You don't have to be alone..."

 

He could feel Jake shaking, could see a wobble on his lip. He wasn't sure which thing it was that he'd said. He watched Jake open his mouth to say something, but all that came was silence and clenched teeth. Dwight looked back up to his eyes, just before Jake abruptly hunched over, seeing...

 

It didn't register till after Jake was collapsed into his shoulder, that what he'd seen was tears welled in his eyes. He was shaking hard with choked sobs, his hands tightly holding onto his shirt. It was a hard, wracking break down that wouldn't let him form words, no matter how much the wheezing breaths said he was trying. Dwight didn't expect any reply out of him. He'd let him cry till his shirt was soaked, if need be.

Dwight tentatively wrapped his arms around him, tilting his head to tuck Jake against his shoulder more comfortably. He absently rubbed his back slowly in hopes to comfort him.

 

_He did it._

 

He had actually gotten through to him, even after having been twisted into such a thing, after being in the entity's control. Dwight was sure he felt tears pricking at his own eyes. Relieved tears, happy tears, or emotionally overwhelmed tears; Dwight wasn't sure which it was, if not all. He gently nuzzled Jake's hair as another hope to comfort him.

 

"It's okay. Y-you're okay. I'm here... you're not alone."

 

Dwight repeated to him softly, just above a whisper.

 

"There's still hope."


End file.
